The 'Knights' of Atarka
by Machina Super Monstrum
Summary: "Me and my beta made a bet on how many views my Goodrevoir story would get on the first day... he won. This is his reward. Also, Maxaro has a... "fascination" for Dragons, especially Atarka...


**A/N: I lost a bet with Maxaro and had to write him a little oneshot on whatever he wanted. I did what I could with the concept I was given...One shall stay, one shall flee, let Atarka choose her favored.**

The icy winds howl across the snow covered mountain peaks of the Dragon's Bowl. The din within was rising as the brood of Atarka grew hungry once again, clamoring for the fresh meat to be brought to them...

Lower down the chilled, rocky slopes, the serving goblins await, their bodies greased in the noxious herbs, their trays ready to haul the steaming, bloody meat to their draconic masters. There was but one problem... the pair of Beastbreakers sent to the meat hunt had not yet returned.

The mountains rumble as Atarka and her brood grow hungrier, impatient for their next feast.

The goblins mill about, anxious and fearful, knowing that if the pair did not return soon, they would have to make up for the lacking meat themselves.

Then, a bellow echoes through the rising, snowy winds, "Meeeeat!" And from the whipping snow, a single Beastbreaker of Atarka, eyes practically glowing in the dim light of the fading sun and chest bare to the biting cold, comes dragging a mammoth behind himself, the beast enormous even by the beast's own standards.

A collective sigh of relief spreads through the server goblins, their odds of being eaten this day had gone down, at least somewhat.

Several of the butcher goblins race out in the bracing air, helping to cart the mammoth with expediency, their time limited.

The warrior himself, shuffles slowly into the slightly warmer interior, the snow on his body beginning to melt and soak into his wild and untamed hair.

The warrior is approached by a fellow clansmen, garbed like that of a trapper. "Maxeemoos, where is Salteer?"

The warrior growls, low and deep, "Coward. Ran rather than fight. Down mountain." He looks down at his club, coated in clumped fur, blood and brain matter. "Had to bring a bigger offering, make up for his fear. Must alert queen of weakness in the ranks."

The trapper nods, "Yes. Go with the serving goblins, stay clear, do not be eaten."

* * *

The warrior trod alongside the serving goblins, several more of them than normal making the journey, their trays laden with the still steaming slabs of meat. A bellowing roar echoes through the path just before they enter the bowl itself. Small whimpering cries spill forth from the horde, "They're mad," "Going to die." "Quick please."

The warrior sneered at their cowardice, but it was expected of the diminutive servants, their spines were weak and their bellies lacked the savage fire of those truly of Lady Atarka.

The first one through was descended upon almost instantly, the tray knocked from his grasp as he himself was hoisted into the air, snapped in half by two contesting broodmembers.

The rest hesitated but eventually made their way forward, knowing that depriving them of their meat would bring about a fate far worse than simply being eaten.

The dragons feast upon the ample meat, along with a few more of the goblins despite their bitter taste, sating themselves for a brief moment and allowing the Beastbreaker to approach the center where his Lady lay, coiled at rest but watching his every move.

"Lady Atarka, Render of Worlds and ruler of our clan, I ask to speak before you of poor news." He bellowed out, but never stepping within neck range of her.

She snorts, smoke billowing from her nose and mouth, the meat filling her massive stomach lending her a moments thought rather than simple aggression.

"Speak small one. Tell."

The warrior stood straighter as he approached his leader, the dragonlord from which they all drew their strength and savagery. "Cowardice. Cowardice amongst our own." Several of the brood shift, their eyes now upon the speaking human. "Partner, Salteer. He ran in the face of prey, a beast bigger than this." He waves a hand at the now empty trays. "A meal to feed you fully. He ran, dropped his weapon and ran down the mountain. I brought this beast to make up for his cowardice."

The female dragonlord's neck rises from the ground, her long, sinewy neck stretching forward to within arm's reach of the human. "And why do you think he ran?" Her breath rushed over him, smelling of burnt meat and charred bone.

"I do not know. I wish to find him, destroy him. Weakness like that cannot be tolerated in Clan Atarka."

If Maxeemoos did not know better, he would think that his lady was... smiling.

"Indeed. Find him, bring him, let me feed upon him for denying me such a meal." One of her enormous claws slides across the stone floor, its tip resting upon the warriors bare chest. "I like you small one. You have a fire, weak, but more than most." Without warning, her claw moves in the slightest of motions, carving a symbol into the soft, chill flesh of the Warrior Maxeemoos.

The pain is searing as the symbol lights with the bright green fire of the Lady Atarka before dieing away just as quickly, down to a steady thrumming pulse. "Go, warrior, with my mark upon you."

The warrior smiles broadly, showing off a large amount of teeth before he beats his fist against his chest twice, "My Lady," and turns to leave the Dragon's Bowl, emboldened on this new quest, his ruler's blessing throbbing upon his chest...

 **A/N: Better and longer than I expected, though I am aware of the fluff inconsistencies. May the night see you safe and the dawn greet you kindly dear readers.**


End file.
